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8. spam
Mira sidles up to you. She's friendly, but not excessively so, not suspiciously so. She seems like a wallflower finally trying to ease out of her shell, or some similar mixed metaphor. In the cafeteria, it's 'Hey, do you mind if I sit with you?' and a small smile. In the hallways it's falling into step, one shoulder tilted awkward and shy. 'Hi. You're so-and-so, right?' In the library she asks what you're reading; on the deck she mentions the stars are beautiful. It's mild and banal, which isn't the point. The point is getting close enough to deftly tap a sticky note on your back. Don't worry, it only says your name.
[OOC: Mira is trying to do this for everyone, so David knows where people are! She also wished to remember, meaning her own past. Instead she's going to get other people's memories - critical, trivial, or things they had forgotten. Feel free to toss her one!]
[OOC: Mira is trying to do this for everyone, so David knows where people are! She also wished to remember, meaning her own past. Instead she's going to get other people's memories - critical, trivial, or things they had forgotten. Feel free to toss her one!]
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Are we all being labelled?
[She's sitting in a hospital room. It's nice enough; it's airy and spacious and smells of flowers. There are armchairs and cushions and a television she's not paying attention to.
She's hunched over the bed, hands clasping small, pale fingers.
"I got better, Annie. You can get better, too. Please?"
Her words are low and soft and aching, and when her vision blurs with her tears, she thinks she can see a graveyard.]
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[Let her do the thing, Jean. u_u And then -]
...you all care about each other so much.
[She's been getting these all day, and it still stuns her, tears pricking her eyes. She doesn't see the point in trying to hide what she saw from Jeam, who can probably hear it echo anyway.]
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Yes. [Her voice is soft, like the girl she'd been.]
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[She doesn't mean just Jean. She means - almost everybody on the barge, the way they worry about so many people.]